


Saturdays Are For Tailgate

by ASongofIceandHope



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fraternity Brother Jon, Sorority Sister Sansa, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 17:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASongofIceandHope/pseuds/ASongofIceandHope
Summary: When Sansa is dragged along with her sorority sisters to a tailgate with her brother Robb’s fraternity, she isn’t expecting to have a good time—until she meets Robb’s fraternity brother, Jon.*Both the fraternity and sorority are fictional (to my knowledge) and are not inspired by any real houses/chapters*





	Saturdays Are For Tailgate

**Author's Note:**

> Who doesn’t love a modern college AU? Here is my autumnal contribution, even though it does not feel like fall tailgate season at my university!

It was a crisp, autumn afternoon at the University of Northern Westeros. On top of that, it was a Saturday, and the university’s football team, The Grey Ghosts, was playing at their home stadium. For Sansa Stark and the sisters of Kappa Phi Rho, that meant tailgate time. Usually, the sisters all went to block with the Sigma Epsilon Mu’s, the frat they were pairing with that semester, but their social chair had scheduled a tailgate instead. They were tailgating with Omega Tau Pi, which just so happened to be her biological brother Robb’s fraternity. 

The Omegas, as they were called, were complete and utter “frat gods,” or so most of the sororities swooned. Sansa’s sisters were among the girls who thought as such, and it made her cringe to see how they all cheered when Robb shotgunned a Natty Light like he thought he really was a Greek god.

“Sis,” Robb sighed as he made his way over to where she stood beneath the tent, “at least look like you’re having a good time?” He threw an arm around her.

“I hate tailgates,” Sansa muttered. “You know that.”

Robb rolled his eyes and poured her a cup of jungle juice that was being kept in a water cooler. She took it, and begrudgingly sipped from it. It tasted like apple juice and vodka, which she supposed was the fraternity’s attempt at being “festive” for the fall. 

Sansa was just about to take another sip when a wayward football knocked the cup from her hands. The contents splashed onto the ground, and onto Sansa’s grey duck boots. She scowled and looked up; one of Robb’s brothers was walking toward them. His head was turned the other way, and he was yelling at whoever had thrown the ball. 

“Lay off the Captain, Greyjoy!” the young man yelled. 

“Oh!” Robb exclaimed as the man grabbed the football. “Sans, I’ve been meaning to introduce you two...” He grabbed the young man and threw an arm around him, turning to face Sansa. “Sansa, this is Jon Targaryen. He’s our pledge chair. Jon, this is my little sister, Sansa.”

If Sansa believed in all the tacky tropes in romance novels, she was certain she had been struck by Cupid’s arrow. She had never seen such an attractive man in all her life, and she knew she was far too sober for it to be drunk goggles. Jon Targaryen was about the same height as her (Sansa always struggled to find men taller than her), with curly black hair and dark brown eyes. His face was scruffy, like Robb’s, but she found she didn’t mind facial hair as much on Jon. Sansa soon realized he was staring at her expectantly, and realized he must have said something. How could she not have been paying attention?

“It... It’s so nice to meet you,” she managed. A small smile graced his face.

“And you,” he agreed. Sansa liked his voice too; it reminded her of her father’s, gruff and low. “You have no idea how nice it is to meet someone who doesn’t want to ask me about my father. What’s your major?”

Sansa recalled that there was a performance hall named for a donor by the name of Rhaegar Targaryen. She quickly made the connection that the man named Rhaegar had to be Jon’s father. “I’m majoring in Anthropology and English Literature,” Sansa replied easily. “What about you? Surely you’re not another business major in Omega.” Jon laughed, and Sansa found herself wanting to make him laugh again.

“No, no,” Jon assured. “I’m majoring in Global Studies with a minor in Valyrian.”

“Impressive,” Sansa complimented. “What do you plan to go into?” She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Robb had slipped off to talk to Jory Cassel, leaving her alone with Jon. Sansa certainly did not mind. 

“I don’t know,” Jon stated as they both sat down in the lawn chairs that were out. “Probably national security?”

“So you’d work at the White Tower, then. In King’s Landing?” Sansa surmised. 

“Yes,” Jon confirmed. “And what about you?”

The conversation progressed from there to favorite places to eat on campus, to favorite movies and books, and beyond. Before they knew it, the tailgate was over. Sansa had learned that Jon’s father was a successful politician, and had been a music student at the university; that was why he’d donated the money for a recital hall. She also knew that he was the actual owner of the Omega’s house dog, Ghost, and that he took the Malamute for a run every morning. Jon liked barbecue, but hated pickles, and his favorite movie was Miracle because he preferred hockey over football. Much to Sansa’s surprise, they shared a favorite book: The Dance of Dragons. 

At the end of the game, Jon walked Sansa back to her sorority house. As they stood on the stoop, she could already tell her sisters were waiting just beyond the door to surprise her when she walked in and to interrogate her to the third degree about Jon.

“I had a wonderful time,” Sansa smiled. A wind whipped up and mussed her hair, blowing her grey scarf around as well. The scarf nearly fluttered away, but Jon moved forward to grab it for her. When they made eye contact, their faces were mere inches apart. Sansa blushed, and Jon wrapped the scarf sloppily around her neck for her. “Thanks.”

“You are very welcome,” Jon murmured. His voice was low and soft, and Sansa shivered. She made the first move, stealing a quick peck on the lips before pulling away. 

“I’ll call you,” she smirked, before turning around and slipping quickly into the house, leaving Jon dumbfounded on the stoop.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this little one-shot!
> 
> Don’t forget to leave kudos/comment!


End file.
